


mistakes were made

by Splat_Dragon



Series: Whumptober 2020 [12]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: "Accidents", Alt Prompt 13, Alt. 13, Alt.13, Arthur Whump, Blood, Blood and Injury, Day 17, Dutch is squeamish, Hurt Arthur Morgan, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020, Young Arthur Morgan, Young Dutch van der Linde, Young Hosea Matthews, prove me wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splat_Dragon/pseuds/Splat_Dragon
Summary: Whumptober 2020, alt. #13: AccidentsBut then he hadn’t gotten back up.“Arthur?” Hosea had asked, more confused than concerned - the boy’s eyes had been open, staring up at the sky above him, and his chest rose and fell, but he hadn’t even tried to sit up. His eyes darted to Hosea, so wide they could make out the white from where they sat perched on their horses, and he opened his mouth as if to speak before seeming to think better of it, closing his mouth.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945801
Comments: 1
Kudos: 66
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	mistakes were made

It was _so stupid._

But none of them had ever had a new horse before. All their horses had been desensitized to things by their previous owners, practically bombproof by the time they entered their hands.

So when Arthur had, after seeing the paint go dancing by with her herd and fallen in love, broken her in, spent months teaching her to accept him, hand-desensitizing her to things had never come to mind.

He was damn proud of that horse. Had worked with her until she had gone from screaming and kicking when he so much as breathed in her direction to dozing with her head in his lap. So when she’d reared, screaming in fright, as a rabbit bolted across her path, and dumped him - well, at first Hosea and Dutch had laughed. Arthur had been a bit of a braggart when it came to the mare, so they’d looked forward to him having to admit that she _wasn’t_ perfect.

But then he hadn’t gotten back up.

  
  


“Arthur?” Hosea had asked, more confused than concerned - the boy’s eyes had been open, staring up at the sky above him, and his chest rose and fell, but he hadn’t even tried to sit up. His eyes darted to Hosea, so wide they could make out the white from where they sat perched on their horses, and he opened his mouth as if to speak before seeming to think better of it, closing his mouth.

Dutch frowned, dismounting and approaching, calling his name again before finally seeing the black-red that was starting to pool beneath him. “Shit, Hosea! He’s bleeding!” and dropping to his knees beside him, Hosea dismounting and hurrying to do the same, helping Arthur to prop himself up, the boy whining like a struck dog as he was leaned against Dutch’s chest.

The source of the blood was immediately apparent - a ring of it slowly spreading out, darkening that ugly duster of his he insisted on wearing, something as big around as Hosea’s fist in the center, “What the hell _is_ that?”

  
  


_That,_ Hosea realized, running his finger over it as gently as he could, pulling away when he found himself with a massive splinter, was the tip of a tree branch, and _of course_ Arthur would manage to fall _just wrong_ to get run through with a tree branch.

Sometimes he thought that Arthur was proof there was a God, because that was the only way someone could survive everything that happened to him, and that that God hated him.

Arthur’s eyes slowly moved over to meet his, but he didn’t say a word. Opened his mouth, closed it again, blinked long and slow.

“I know, son,” Hosea took a deep breath, looked at Dutch, “He needs a doctor.”

and normally Dutch would argue - _you can handle it, Hosea!_ \- Hosea had become somewhat of the camp doctor, stitching them up and doling out the medicines they got their hands on - but the man was slowly going an alarming shade of grey-green the longer he looked at Arthur’s shoulder, clearly fighting the urge to shove him away and lunge for his saddle to clean off the blood. So he nodded, gagged “Alright,” then, haltingly, “Should we… take it out?”

Hosea shook his head, leaning down to hook Arthur’s good arm over his shoulder, helping him to his feet and apologizing when the boy whimpered like a struck dog, face draining of what little color it had left. “It’s plugging his wound and stopping the worst of the bleeding, leave it be.”

  
  


Dutch hadn’t had The Count then, had had a _massive_ Thoroughbred by the name of The Duke while he’d had a little Morgan by the name of Lucky Penny that buckled if he put a rabbit on her, so it took some struggling, cussing, and whimpering to get Arthur up on The Duke, soaking the gelding's rump with his blood, and with how poorly Dutch was starting to look Hosea almost offered to ride with him but Dutch took a deep breath and mounted, kicking the horse into a gallop before Hosea could even slip into Penny’s saddle.

Though Lucky Penny was weak, and only a year from the glue factory, she was quick, and so he caught up quickly with Dutch, calling up to Arthur “How you holding up son?”

Arthur blinked down at him, taking a moment to answer, “Been better, have’ta admit,” trying for a grin that came out as more of a grimace.

Hosea stretched up, just barely made it to pat him on the knee, “Won’t be long son, then the doctor’ll have you feelin’ _real_ good,” and even Dutch, face having long gone alarmingly chalky, laughed at that.

  
  


They were, thank god, because Arthur was starting to look alarmingly pale, wavering on his perch, not far from the nearest town. Had only left it not an hour ago, and the butcher at the edge of town looked very surprised to see them back. Even more surprised when he saw the state Arthur was in, coat soaked through, The Duke’s coat more red than brown, hurrying to point them to the doctor’s office.

Hosea was right and, by the time Hosea was helping the doctor pin him down so he could work the spike out of his shoulder (the doctor had taken one look at Dutch and ordered him outside), Arthur was flying high.


End file.
